I dwelt by the ocean, once

  Etching histories along the bone-white shore

  tracing with lines in the sand

  the chronicles of our revolution,

  Comforted by the rhythm

  and the roar of the tide.

  I remember her face

  So pale and still, never again to smile

  when the moon’s light fell,

  then stopped

  cold as silver upon the shore.

  There it flickered, trembling

  on a fragile thread of remembrance

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  waiting for my hand to pluck

  from the endless nothingness

  little pieces of

  an unchanging stillness,

  as time distorts the past,

  borne away by the surge.

  The thought of her begins to fade

  her voice,

  the feel of her hand in mine,

  the taste of her lips,

  even the dreams of her

  are vanishing

  into the dark.

  In defiance,

  I wrote her name in the sand,

  then watched

  as the waves

  washed my memories away.